


Just You

by slbunnies



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, And Yuri, M/M, because I felt like it, random time skips, spelled Viktor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 13:07:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9386600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slbunnies/pseuds/slbunnies
Summary: Yuri spends all his time agonizing over the fact that he used to (ha, still does) have a crush on Viktor Nikiforov.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Yay! My first Yuri!On Ice fic. I've been humming and hawing about writing one for months now. Of course there's smut... okay, mostly smut... how could you ever doubt me. Victuuri all the way!

Viktor surrounds him. Even on the ice, Yuri is incapable of distancing himself, of pulling away from thoughts of his idol. He can't tell whether his skating has improved or worsened because of this. Which is a problem. Because Viktor is everywhere – at the rink, his home, in his life, etched deep within his mind. It's like everywhere he goes he's right there with him.

It had been maddening at first. He'd felt like a wound coil, set to spring apart at any moment. Viktor sharing the onsen with him, eating across from him, joining his running routine, and wanting to sleep with him is wearing thin on his nerves. Yuri doesn't hate the man, far from it really. He just feels like he's floating above it all, desperately trying to claw his way back to reality.

Yuri goes through the motions, trying to keep his distance, trying to work out how he's managed to gain Viktor Nikiforov as his coach. It's like some sick, twisted fantasy, only Yuri can't seem to cope with it. He can't let his mind think too much on Viktor's presence because it pulls at something deep within him, reminding him of his insignificance, but it's almost impossible to stop it from happening, usually at the most inconvenient of times. 

Bringing his arms in toward his chest, he flexes his knees, pushing up into the air for a jump. He barely lands it, reaching out for the ice with his hand to keep himself from face planting. He fears he will never be able to land the Quadruple Salchow. But, for the moment it's the least of his worries.

He continues on with the routine, his Ina Bauer flawless, his spins near perfect, his legs taking him through the rest of it even though he has nearly run out of steam. Trying for one last jump, Yuri lands on the freezing ice with a loud, jarring smack, his lower spine taking the brunt of landing so haphazardly. Curling his arms up over his knees, he sobs into them, covering his face from sight even though there is no one there at the rink to see him anyway. It's late at night and Viktor is back at Yu-topia Katsuki, probably unaware that Yuri is even gone. He has the other Yuri to keep him company now.

Wiping his face against his long sleeves, he pushes himself back up, resolved to try the routine one last time before heading back. It needs to be marginally better if he wants to win. The problem is that Yuri's not completely sure he does want to win. 

It will mean Viktor staying.

And as amazing as it is to have the figure skating gold-medalist as his coach, Yuri still hasn't been able to fully push his feelings aside. The awe has started to ebb away, but with it fading into the abyss of his mind other thoughts have pushed their way to the forefront – of the dozens of posters hidden beneath his mattress, of how his first wet dream had been of the man, of how whenever Viktor gets too close, which he manages to do frequently, and his scent encompasses Yuri in a heady rush, his entire body tightens as he fights with a burst of sudden arousal.

Closing his eyes, he sweeps through his step sequence, a picture of Viktor clear behind his lids. He'll continue to try though. It's his last attempt and he hopes that both his body and mind will hold out for it.

 

* * *

 

He is starting to get used to having Viktor around. Of course, being in the skating star's presence still leaves him blushing and stumbling over his words sometimes, but Yuri figures that it's just natural as he has spent much of his time in absolute awe of him. For the first bit, when the Russian man had suddenly insinuated himself into his life, he had felt as if he'd been walking around in a daze. It had taken a while to realize that he wasn't actually dreaming, that this was now his reality, that Viktor Nikiforov had actually become his coach.

While living with him for an extended period and spending an inordinate amount of time with him, in practice and also whatever time the silver haired man could wrangle out of him in between, he has come to fall in love with him. It hadn't been difficult as he has been half in love with just the thought of him for years. Not that he would ever tell him that.

His walls look bare without Viktor's dazzling blue eyes staring back at him and he still isn't used to the fact that, instead of posters he has the real thing to look at, every day, whether he wants to or not. Hence the near-permanent blush. It doesn't help that Viktor is one of the biggest flirts that Yuri has ever met. He can't even begin to get over the fact that the man seems to enjoy foregoing wearing clothes. Or how his mind feels scrambled at the thought that they've kissed. Confusion has become commonplace for him, along with running away.

Viktor thinks he's avoiding him – and he is – but he has good reason to, because Yuri just can't handle the anxious feelings twisting his gut every time Viktor gets too close, or says something near-provocative in that low, velvety voice, or gently touches him as if he isn't even aware of such a thing as personal space. Looking down at the sleeping man laying on top of him, over the covers, and letting out a shaky exhale, he can't deny the beauty he sees. Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, Yuri brings a hand up to reverently caress the silver hair obscuring Viktor's face from view, barely brushing his fingers through the soft, silky strands. It's almost a sacrilege to do so.

A soft moan reaches his ears and he gasps, jerking his hand away and finding his palm nuzzled by a sleepy Makkachin at his side, against his leg. Yuri can't remember inviting either or them to his bed and he briefly muses over how they have both ended up here with him anyway. It isn't the first time, nor is it likely to be the last, even though he thought he had locked his door tonight. He bites back a groan as Viktor's arm slides down his side to curl around his hip, fingers tickling his ribs. He ought to just kick him out, but he finds he doesn't have the heart to, and it isn't often one finds themselves a makeshift pillow to their childhood idol.

“I don't know why you're here,” Yuri whispers, his skin prickling all over, hoping Viktor is still deep in sleep. He knows what he says has a double meaning, indicating both his room and his life, and he wonders why he's talking to himself in the middle of the night, but continues anyway, needing to get it off his chest.

“You drive me crazy, you don't even know,” he says, staring at his unmoving face, amazed at how he can see all of the small details he wouldn't normally notice - from his light, fanned out eyelashes to the little dip above his lips, to the barely there crinkle at the corner of his eyes and small freckles lightly dotting the bridge of his nose. “I'm overwhelmed really.”

Viktor sighs gently in his sleep, shifting minutely to get comfortable, and Yuri's hand slips back into his hair without thought, like it's magnetically attracted to it's vibrancy.

“I had a crush on you for so long,” he feels his face heat up, “but that was just--that was just from watching you skate. When I watched you it brought forth so many emotions that I'm incapable of even describing. It was like--it was like I knew that anything was possible. But now that I've seen the real you, the you beyond the ice...” he can't continue, his throat tight and blocking the words from coming out.

 

* * *

 

“Tell me again how pretty I am, Yuri!”

Yuri groans, squashing his glasses against his face as he lets his head fall to the cushion of the couch, partially muffling the noise. Viktor laughs, clear and delighted, pinching Yuri's side and making him jump.

“Come on, I want to hear you say it again,” Viktor says, his tone teasing.

He wishes that they had never started this discussion, knows how much of an ass the Russian can be when he's feeling smug, and knows how relentlessly he will be teased now that the man knows. Of course, Viktor was already aware of his own good looks – sometimes he could be a bit vain – but this is different. Mumbling into the fabric of the couch, he hears Viktor plop down beside his head.

“What was that, Yuri? I didn't quite hear you.”

Yes, smug. And Yuri hates himself just a little for liking the sound of arrogance touching the silver-haired man's voice. Fidgeting with the frame of his glasses, he lifts his face, glaring at him. “You're never going to let this go, are you?” he asks. Viktor's smirk is hard to miss.

“Nope, it's just too precious. I can't believe you never told me before. That I was a teen-aged Yuri's first crush,” he bats his eyelashes at Yuri, “This is too important, tell me more,” Viktor explains, looking far too interested in the topic.

“But it's embarrassing,” Yuri practically whines, biting at his lower lip. Viktor's expression softens and he shifts his legs around, the top of Yuri's knee pressing into the hard muscle of his inner thigh as he moves closer.

“Tell me,” Viktor urges lowly, tilting Yuri's chin upward with a less than steady hand so that he can look into his eyes.

“I-I-can't,” he replies, looking away at something across the room, anywhere but the man's open face.

“Please, Yu-uri?”

A stroke across his cheek makes him tremble, a sharp shiver shooting up his spine. He hates how Viktor says his name, probably because he likes it so much, likes how it sounds, the kissable shape it briefly makes of his lips. Taking a deep breath, Yuri gives in.

“I don't have a crush on you any more.”

He still can't look him in the eyes but this is about as brave as he's going to get, just letting the words come out and dealing with the repercussions later.

“It's more than that now. It's more than just seeing your beauty, on and off the ice. When I was younger that's all it was about, about how fantastic you seemed, how you inspired me, how pretty you were... that long hair of yours...”

Yuri trails off for a second, his eyes snapping back at the hum coming from the man next to him, startled by the vision of Viktor before him now, his eyes blown wide and mouth parted like he's soaking up every word and enjoying it. “The way you skated made me feel something I couldn't have even tried to explain. But now... now it's just you... just you, Viktor.” Yuri really hopes he understands and doesn't have to explain any further because his face feels hot and like it's about to burst into flames. He's never been this direct in his life.

Wishing he had the ability to disappear at will, Yuri holds back a strangled noise as Viktor's face comes closer, mere inches from his own, looking as if he is trying to determine something very important. He watches his eyelashes flutter shut and doesn't realize what it signifies. A hand strokes up his bare arm, right up to the sleeve of his shirt, and he's startled by the press of lips to his own.

Viktor's kissing him.

_Oh._

It's a deeper kiss than the quick brush of their first one – rough and needy, stealing his breath straight from his chest. His brain flails for a moment even as his hands come up to clutch at the man. Yuri kisses back without even thinking about it, completely lost, feeling like light is bursting behind his eyelids as he starts to run out of air. Whimpering, he opens his mouth to the flick of a tongue against the seam of his lips, his hands sinking into Viktor's hair.

He moves his lips clumsily, desperate for the taste of more, rising up from his knees and nearly toppling forward. Their kisses slowly taper off with smaller pecks and they rest their foreheads together.

“You're so sweet, Yuri,” Viktor breathes out.

 

* * *

  

It is Viktor's birthday. Well, it has just become his birthday, as Yuri has been laying wide awake for the last few hours, struggling with an inner turmoil that makes him feel silly for thinking of such things. It is silly, he thinks for the hundredth time, his cheeks blushing. It's dark and Viktor is asleep, so no one can see the flush of his face, which he is thankful for. Yuri is curled up on his side, facing away from the sleeping Russian, his knees drawn up as he stares out into the darkness, a bare sliver of light cutting across the adjacent wall from the world outside the curtained room.

He sighs and jerks at the sudden movement behind him, feeling a warm thigh pressing tightly against the back of his own. Yuri is stiff and unmoving, eyes wide with the knowledge that Viktor is trying to cuddle him. The man's breathing is soft and even, and it's likely that he's still deep in sleep, unaware of how his body is causing Yuri such torment. It's a rather pleasant feeling actually, a tingling heat spreading over the skin that has come into contact with Viktor, but it leaves him biting his lip and just barely holding back a groan.

This is his problem – he wants Viktor. He wants to be confident enough to let his eyes wander over every line and curve of the soft, creamy skin on display, to follow it with his hands and trace over every exposed inch with his mouth. It's left him frustrated to no end. He's seen Viktor naked in the onsen, too many times to count, but every single time he finds himself sporting a red face and glancing away from the statuesque form, too embarrassed to even produce words for a period of time until he can distract himself with some inane thought.

Yuri closes his mouth as he realizes he's starting to breathe too hard, hard enough to hear in the quiet of the bedroom. He's been thinking about Viktor since the man had stripped down to his sleek, black boxer-briefs and crawled into bed beside him. It isn't new to have him as a bed partner. No, what is new is that before falling asleep, nearly every night since the Grand Prix, Viktor will lean over him and give him a few sweet kisses, leaving Yuri feeling strangled and hot under the collar, before curling up behind him, his body radiating a warmth that Yuri can't escape from.

Viktor doesn't seem to have any personal boundaries and it's put a strain on producing any rational thought on Yuri's part. He's had a crush on the figure skater for so long he can't even remember a time when he didn't. It certainly doesn't help his nerves to know that Viktor is completely aware of this, finds it endearing even, teases him about it every once in a while with his lips shaped into a pleased smile.

And, god, how the man loves to tease, probably not even knowing he's doing it, just with little touches – squeezing Yuri's shoulder, grasping his arm, holding his hand, cupping his face, ruffling his hair, pressing their thighs together as they sit next to each other, resting his hand on Yuri's lower back, kissing his cheek, setting his face against Yuri's neck whenever they hug, sleeping beside him wearing next to nothing – it's driving him insane.

He can't even get started on what Viktor's voice does to him, or how seeing him skate, just for him, makes his heart skip a beat, or on the way he smiles, eyes lit up with pleasure when he's in Yuri's presence, and how it makes his chest feel like it's about to burst under the pressure of not breathing. So, Yuri's been warring with himself, and yes, it is silly, but he just doesn't have the confidence to take what he wants, even if he knows Viktor wants the same. He's sure he does, but he can't be _sure_...

Viktor stirs again, letting out a cute, content noise, his arm coming up to wrap around Yuri's middle as he spoons him fully. Sucking in his stomach, Yuri's jaw tightens. He's not a saint and there's only so much he can take before he just gives in to his urges, until he forgets to be anxious, forgets whatever ridiculous reasons are holding him back from throwing himself at Viktor Nikiforov and letting something beyond his control happen.

The heat of his face could probably melt an entire ice rink and he's trembling at the feeling of Viktor covering his entire backside with his front, because it feels good, but it also causes his nerves to sky-rocket. Yuri chews on his bottom lip and arches his hips back, rubbing himself against Viktor and feeling something he's been ignoring for months, ever since the Russian legend had declared his intentions of becoming his coach, his fiancé, his everything.

“Yuri,” Viktor mumbles against the back of Yuri's neck, the name a mere whisper dropping sleepily from his lips. Releasing his sore lip, Yuri lets out a short gasp as he presses back again and Viktor meets him with a slow, dirty roll of his own hips.

“ _Yuri_ ,” he hears again, this time low and clear, drawn out, sounding like a warning. He pauses briefly, heart in tandem with the fast pace of his breathing, head spinning at his own audacity, before rocking back again and feeling Viktor's hard length as it twitches against him.

He wonders if it's noticeable how much he is trembling beside him, wonders what Viktor's thinking of in this moment. The arm around him tightens and the movement of their hips sync together. It's almost disturbing how hot Yuri finds this simple rutting, although he is rather innocent in all of this, and there's also the fact that when it comes to Viktor the simplest things turn him on. A hand slips up under his shirt, caressing his stomach, and causes him to suck in his next breath.

“ _Ah_ -Vitya...” 

Viktor moans brokenly, his hips jerking roughly. Twisting his head around, a bit awkwardly, Yuri seeks out his face and finds himself staring into heavy-lidded blue eyes. He's caught in his gaze and can't find even the simplest of reasons to look away.

“Come here, lyubov moya,” Viktor says, his breath warm as it washes against the side of Yuri's face. And he isn't sure what he's said or what he means for him to do, but strong hands help him to turn around, and with a groan of mortification at the obviousness of his aroused state, Yuri buries his face against the man's smooth chest. Fingers brush up into the hair at the back of his neck, gently moving through the dark strands as Viktor suddenly chuckles.

“Don't be so shy, Yuri, there's no need,” his fiancé assures him, kissing the top of his head. “There's no rush in this. I want you to do whatever feels good to you, even if that means simply letting me hold you in my arms as you fall asleep.”

His calm voice is like a warm caress, tingles of anticipation running along Yuri's skin at the sound of it. He wants Viktor, wants to be swept away in the man's passion, to give a part of himself over. It's just that his stomach feels like something is wriggling inside of it and as much as he tries to ignore the sensation, it keeps distracting him from giving in to what he really wants – to touch Viktor with no reservations and to experience his touch in return.

Coming out from his hiding place against Viktor's sculpted chest, he smiles sheepishly and kisses him to ease his nerves. He can do this, they've kissed plenty of times. Perhaps not under the same circumstances, in bed together with the possibility of leading to more, close and intimate with less clothing between them than what was usual, but it's still familiar – the shape and taste of Viktor's mouth, the way his soft lips part to tease Yuri with the tip of his tongue, the quiet sighs of contentment caught between their melding mouths.

He brings a hesitant hand down to his waist, brushing a thumb along heated skin, and moves closer to feel Viktor against him. It's like when they hug, only so much more, his skin burning at the contact and yet also shivering as if he were chilled. Viktor responds in kind, touching Yuri's side, pushing up the hem of his shirt so that he can lay his hand against bare skin.

His own fingers make contact with slippery silk and he realizes how far he has let them wander, feeling the line of a hip beneath his palm. Pausing for a few seconds, Yuri pulls his mouth away to take a deep breath or two and Viktor takes the opportunity to slide up further, splaying his fingers out over Yuri's near-heaving chest.

“You're beautiful,” the skater says, his Russian accent sounding thick, his eyes shining. A wet kiss is pressed into Yuri's jaw and then Viktor descends upon his neck, leaving trails of sparks along it. Yuri cannot help the moan that rises out from his throat, nor can he stop his chin from tilting up to allow him more room.

“Please,” he gets out between pants of breath, ignoring how quickly he's given in to pleading, his hips arching forward to rub himself indelicately against the other's hard length, “I want this... want you, Viktor.”

“Anything,” is his silver-haired lover's response. His lips trace the jut of Yuri's collarbone and he twists forward, gently pressing his larger frame halfway atop of him as he rucks up Yuri's shirt to bare his stomach and chest.

Even though he is somewhat self-conscious, Yuri feels desirable under Viktor's love-struck admiration, his gaze heated. He breaks out into slight shivers, especially when fingers skim along his chest and trace over an apparently sensitive, hardening nipple. And Viktor's smiling at him, a look of enjoyment on his face, as if being able to finally touch Yuri the way he wants brings him pleasure.

Struck with wonder as he's touched and kissed to breathlessness, he finally feels like he's where he wants to be. Yuri pushes at his own sleeping pants, needing them out of the way, and Viktor helps to pull them down his legs, leaving him completely on display. Sighing in relief, he focuses on getting rid of Viktor's remaining clothes so that he can feel what it's like to be naked with him. Excitement thrums through him, his hands finally scrubbing down perfect, pale skin until he is cupping the skater's shapely rear.

With a smooth motion, Viktor rolls them over and Yuri finds himself looking down at the man spread out beneath him, and he is slotted between his legs, barely holding himself up over him with shaking arms. It's unexpected, but the other man seems content with the position and Yuri is too caught up in feeling the entire length of his hard body against his own to give it much thought. Pulled down into another heated kiss, a tongue strokes it's way between his parted lips and entangles with his own before he can even fathom the idea of anything more.

His fingers twist into the sheets and he groans, his lips tingling, as Viktor twists himself up, the sensation of a firm cock sliding against his own, pressed between their stomach's, making him feel so far gone he can't remember his own name for a moment. It's something he can't even begin to get used to, but Yuri soon finds his own hips moving in time with Viktor's, his chest tightening with each delicious thrust.

“Ah, yes-this is good,” Viktor moans out, flinging his head back, the chords of his neck standing out, one of his legs rising from the bed to wrap around Yuri's upper thighs. “Yuri-Yuri, will you...” he pauses, biting down on his tongue for a second as he circles his hips again, reaching over into the small wooden table on his side of the bed. Yuri's brows furrow together until Viktor pushes something, small and tube-shaped, into his hands. His eyes go wide.

“Will you...” Viktor breaks off again and flushes prettily, his cheeks a light pink. “I want you to be inside of me,” he elaborates, his eyes searching Yuri's face.

Nodding is almost automatic though it isn't quite what Yuri had been expecting. If anything, he would have thought that their roles would be reversed, had been anticipating having Viktor inside of him. But, he's definitely not disappointed. Far from it.

He'll do anything Viktor asks of him at this point, because he practically lives to please him, to make him happy, see him smile or laugh – and now to bring him pleasure. Hopefully. As much as Yuri is capable of anyway. 

Viktor let's out a pleased little noise and tilts his lower half up, his legs spreading wide, thighs shaking. “Please,” he asks, and Yuri fumbles as he removes the capped lid from the tube, slick gel already seeping out because his grip is too tight. Viktor's quick to catch it before it drips over his fist onto the sheets though, taking the lubricant away and setting it beside his pillow.

Gulping and backing away just enough to look down at what's going on, his cock jerks up against his stomach as he watches Viktor run his own lubed finger down against the pink, furled skin of his opening. It circles around a few times before dipping inside, the outer rim stretching around the single digit as it begins to sink in deeper, eliciting a gasp from Viktor. Yuri's enthralled with the sight, blown away that he has a chance to see the other man this way, but he let's his dark eyes flicker back up to Viktor's face, wondering if he really enjoys the feeling.

“Have you... have you done this before?” he quarries, letting his tongue peek out to wet his dry lips. 

“Only with myself,” comes the quick reply, Viktor's mouth lax as he gives his finger a sharp twist. Yuri's fingers flex where they are resting on the back of the man's thighs. He's nervous and oh so very eager, and turned on beyond belief at the same time.

Eventually, Viktor's reaching out for Yuri's hand, the one already partially coated in lube, and he pushes down on his fingers, folding all but the first two into a fist. Yuri feels like his heart has lodged itself somewhere high up in his throat as he's guided toward the puckered ring of muscle, Viktor removing his own finger to make way for the two of his. He presses into the snug heat, hoping he isn't hurting him, hoping that somehow this feels good.

“Oh!” Viktor bucks eagerly down against his hand. 

It doesn't take much longer for Yuri to soon be thrusting three of his fingers into him while Viktor fumbles with the tube of lubrication, reaching out to ready Yuri's cock. He moans loudly at the firm strokes, pistoning up into the tight grasp.

“That's good. You feel so good,” Viktor's voice breaking as Yuri's fingers curl up to brush against something that makes his entire body tense and tremble. “I'm-ah... so ready for you, Yuri.”

His cerulean eyes have glazed over and he looks so lovely, spread out against the white sheets, all flushed and close to pleading, and Yuri realizes he has yet to touch his long, perfectly shaped erection. It seems such a shame. He stares at it for a few moments, his fingers just sitting unmoving inside of Viktor's clenching hole, before he leans forward and kisses the very tip of the flushed, rounded head. He tentatively dips his tongue out for a taste and moans, opening his mouth to let it slip inside and curling his tongue around to capture the drops of liquid beading down the shaft. 

“Fuck.” 

Startled, Yuri's eyes snap up while he gently sucks, realizing he's sure he has never heard Viktor curse before. As soon as he pulls off, trailing his tongue along the line of his cock one last time, Viktor is drawing him upward, causing him to remove his fingers so that he doesn't hurt either of them, and pulls him into a rough, needy kiss, all tongue and teeth, filled with low moans from the both of them.

“Please, Yuri, I need you,” Viktor gasps out against his lips, reaching down between their bodies to guide Yuri to where he wants him, setting his slicked penis to his equally slippery entrance.

Nodding, he helps the man to lift his legs higher, bending and bringing them closer to Viktor's chest. He's slightly afraid, of messing up and hurting him, of getting too close to him, or of just being completely terrible at this. Yuri's hand wraps around the one Viktor is still holding him with and he takes a gasping breath as they both push against each other.

“Oh- _oh-oh_ ,” he says, practically choking because his throat feels suddenly very constricted, squeezing his eyes shut as he sinks inside, barely, feeling Viktor gripping around him tightly. Shifting his knees up the tiniest amount, Yuri lets go of himself, forcing his hips into stillness because Viktor's expression looks sort of pained. “Are you okay?”

“Fine, fine,” Viktor replies, inhaling in quick bursts through his nose. His hands grab at Yuri's forearms. “Just-” he tilts his hips up as if it helps in some way, his words practically slurring together, “-go very slowly.”

“Okay,” he stutters, taking Viktor's hips in his hands to assist in holding them up. It's good that he hasn't moved since entering him as he isn't sure how long he's going to last having such an exquisite, silken heat wrapped around his cock. Yuri's determined though and he pushes forward lightly, rocking the barest amount and trying to not just bury himself deep.

It's intense, being inside Viktor. It feels like a fragile moment and he has never felt so close to someone as this. Yuri grits his teeth as he's gradually enveloped by Viktor's squeezing insides, probably holding on to him too tightly. A blissful feeling is pooling in his lower stomach and his cock is throbbing, balls drawing up close to his body. He's fully inside... and he is not going to be able to do much else because if he moves even an inch it's going to be over all too soon.

“Yuri,” Viktor moans, clenching down around him. He loosens his death grip on Yuri's arms.

Shaking, Yuri feels light-headed as he looks down at where his cock has disappeared into Viktor's stretched opening. It's so pink and shiny and he's inside...

He's _inside_ Viktor. He's only now coming to grips with this. 

“Oh god,” he says, bucking forward against his will, a sharp shock of pleasure zipping through him at the motion. “I can't... _I can't_...” He's unravelling, so close to coming apart, but he can't yet, can't just lose himself without thought to Viktor's needs. Steadying himself, he takes Viktor's half-hard erection in hand and strokes from base to tip, whimpering as this in turn causes a tightening around his own length. 

“Does it feel good?” Yuri asks. His eyes roam over Viktor's form, hoping he's doing at least something right.

“It's-uh-alright,” Viktor replies honestly, wriggling his lower half. Yuri remembers that Viktor has said he hasn't done this before, hasn't ever taken anyone inside of himself like this, and he carefully leans forward, kissing him for a few heartbeats. “Can you move now?” 

Probably not, but he can try, Yuri thinks, exhaling loudly and pulling his hips back, out just a bit and then back in again.

“Like this?”

“Mmm, yeah, like that,” Viktor tells him. “Just... a little more,” he adds, his lips parting on another broken moan as Yuri readily complies. He gradually moves until he's sliding nearly free and then back in deep, his hips bumping into the soft cushion of Viktor's rear, though he keeps his pace slow.

“I-I-I think I'm going to...” Yuri's hips stutter, grinding into him, and Viktor let's out these small, high-pitched whimpers, going rigid beneath him. He hopes they don't indicate pain because he's about to tip over the edge and doesn't think he could stop even if he tries. 

“Nnngh, _fuck._ _Yuri!_ " Viktor cries out, his head flinging back hard into the pillow, his hips dancing in Yuri's grasp. And then he feels the muscles contracting erratically around his cock, sees Viktor absolutely lose control, feels like his breath has been punched right out of his chest.

He groans desperately at the way Viktor is recklessly screwing himself down onto him, how he is yelling out Yuri's name and coming all over himself in long spurts that jet out across his taut stomach. He's never seen anything more erotic, more beautiful than Viktor Nikiforov wreathing in pleasure beneath him. 

Yuri can no longer hold back and he pumps his hips hard, fucking into his grasping hole in jerking, incomplete motions and filling him with his own release. His mind goes blank as he slumps forward. Fingers card into his hair and he barely blinks his eyes open.

“That was perfect, love,” he hears, and he can't help but smile at how strong Viktor's accent sounds when he says it, like he's already half asleep. Yuri grimaces at the realization that his front is wet and sticking to Viktor's, and he shifts his hips back, slipping from his ass and the cradle of his hips and rolling over beside him. 

Viktor nestles against him, wrapping around him with sweaty limbs and pressing chaste kisses to Yuri's neck.

“Vitya,” Yuri says, curling their fingers together, speaking without thought because his brain feels like it has turned to mush, “I love you.”

He probably really shouldn't have just said that, not clouded in a post-orgasmic euphoria, not saying it for the first time. 

“And I love you, Yuri,” is the heart stopping response and Yuri feels warmth burst in sparkles throughout his chest, somehow feeling more pleasure in hearing those words spoken to him by Viktor than in what he had felt in the midst of sex.

Although, Yuri isn't sure that he's not simply dreaming – perhaps he had fallen asleep next to Viktor and was having a very vivid, explicit dream. He shakes his head, feeling Viktor stroke over his golden ring with a caress he deems reverent, knowing a dream could not have been as brilliant as the reality he has wanted for so long and is finally his.

“What are you thinking?” Viktor asks in a whisper, brushing his nose under Yuri's ear.

“How happy I am,” Yuri tells him, basking in the knowledge that he has Viktor's love – Viktor Nikiforov, world famous skating champion, and all around heart throb. His mind quiets down and he looks at their joined hands, spotting their identical rings resting against one another. No, that isn't quite right. Yuri is in love with his Viktor, the Viktor that no one else gets to see, the forgetful, incorrigible, darling, mess of a man currently biting the lobe of Yuri's ear.

“Viktor!” he groans, flushing as a low laugh is smothered against his shoulder and the man in question shifts his hips forward to rub against Yuri's ass.

Incorrigible indeed, Yuri thinks, unable to hide a dopey grin.

But _his_.

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently, 'lyubov moya' means 'my love' in Russian. I don't speak a word of the language so don't hold it against me if I'm incorrect. I also have the theory that Viktor really loves saying Yuri's name, because he says it so many different times but each time has it's own meaning.


End file.
